Coming Down with a Condition

I mull over words like a plow drudging amaranthine fields.
I mull like a mule,
A mulling half-breed that gallops
on every cobblestoned syllable. The mule,
our century's quintessential centaur
sent to us to mull over borders in languid fluidity.
If only I can mule through my breakthrough,
a harbinger from my harbor of thoughts.
Unlike the limpid mule, I limp
in ripples on a blank page. The hard blue lines
on flimsy paper wrinkle phrases in undulations
of more ramblings. I am rambling. Excuse me for this
miniscule ridicule, a pen helter-skelter in rampages.
A block away. I am a block away from the mule
who mulls better. A mock of acknowledgment letters
into words into essays, that mule.
I will never be a Mullen. I'll never be a mule.
I'll acquiesce across an accordion of pages,
away from shore into the golden offing of temperance,
my muse.

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Poetry is an abstract art from the museum of the mind. This poem is heavily inspired by poet, Harryette Mullen, and lovingly dedicated to my family and mentor, Julie Wade, who encouraged me to follow my dreams and my passion to write. I currently pursue a bachelor's in English at Florida International University and continue to create art.